Today is the 20th of August. I leave the 30th. It's possible to get a lot done in ten days, but it's also so possible to do nothing. (Maybe that's true of any time interval, though.) My to-do list has been shrinking, but today my countdown changed from the format x weeks, x days to plain old days and I'm about to start panicking.
It's time to do my laundry and finish things, but all I want to do is to try to complete the movie and book lists I made for this summer and hang out with my friends. They, too, have realized how much we need to move on to the next phase of the year, so I think we're all starting to feel suspended, stuck in limbo for less than two weeks.
I can't freeze, though. I should probably never freeze, but right now I can't. I have too much to do. A huge part of me just wants the ten days to be over. Let's be at the airport. I will have packed just enough things—no more, no less. (This is a fantasy, I can dream.) We didn't get there late, didn't hit terrible traffic like when I was flying to Paris and we had to take Fort St...although that actually worked out perfectly. I hug my parents and Emma goodbye. My brother will already be gone, starting his first year in East Quad. My mom will start crying, probably, unless she holds it in until I can't see her, but that's unlikely this time. Maybe I'll cry too, but maybe not.
I'll be thinking about John Mayer's song "Wheel," so maybe I will cry. Except that we won't be saying last goodbyes, so the airport part of the song is kind of irrelevant. And it's an optimistic song. If you never stop when you wave goodbye you just might find if you give it time you will wave hello again, you're gonna be waving hello again.
Then I'll go through security and wait forever and get on the plane and be GONE! But I should stop fast-forwarding and do what I have to do right now.